Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Of course it is.
The video’s both mesmerizing and unsettling, shot with the raw precision of someone who knows exactly what they’re aiming for. He stands in the frame, his broad shoulders filling the screen. This time, he’s not posed or polished—his stance is casual, almost lazy, though, like before, it’s somehow drenched in Bratva energy.
Maybe because he isn’t posing. Maybe because he is the real thing.
I can feel the undercurrent of tightly coiled power in the way he leans against the wall, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.
The camera catches every detail: the veins along his forearms, the latent power and ink that scream danger.
I once read somewhere that a woman is naturally drawn to a man with ink because she knows… he won’t pussyfoot around. He’s a man well acquainted with pain and risks, a man who is willing to take her to new heights.
I have no idea if it’s true.
I want to see his jaw again. I want to see that stubble, that smirk, but most of all… I want to see his eyes. I can tell by the way his lips are moving he’s talking.
I swallow hard, start it over, and turn the volume up on my phone.
“You want a man to protect you,” he whispers, his voice low and rough and so sexy a pulse of need throbs between my thighs. I swallow. That subtle Russian lilt turns every word into a threat wrapped in velvet, and I could listen to him talk all day long. I’m not the only one—comment after comment comes in, flirting with him, begging for more, offering him their first-born children and hands in marriage.
His gaze is unflinching as if he’s addressing me directly.
Maybe he is…
“You don’t want a gentleman, little queen.”
I gulp.
There’s no maybe about this. He is talking to me.
The camera pans in slightly, framing his masked face, those eyes growing so serious my breath catches. “A gentleman does what’s right. Plays by the rules.” He’s shaking his head, then leans in closer, the movement deliberate. I watch the veins in his neck stand out slightly as he speaks with quiet intensity. “I would break every rule, every law to keep you safe.” The pause that follows is intentional, almost cruel, the tension crackling through the screen as he holds his breath.
“I would stop at nothing. No one…” His voice drops to a lower register, rougher. “And I mean, no one would ever harm a hair on your head.”
He doesn’t say it, but I hear his words loud and clear…
Except me.
Still, the thought of Shawn in town and all that entails reminds me how nice it would be to have exactly this.
No.
He stalked me. I don’t know him.
I can’t trust him.
For a moment, the silence lingers, heavy and charged. The video ends abruptly, leaving behind the sound of my own shallow breathing and the thunderous pounding of my heart.
With trembling fingers, I click my message as text after text comes in. I don’t want to look at those. They’re Shawn, I know it.
Instead I pull up his.
Bratvabloodline
Morning, little queen. Did you sleep well?
I need to take back some control here, so I don’t answer and instead click the message from my friend.
Bookbabe
OMG. Ember. EMBER. This guy is so into you!
Into me or stalking me?
I can’t tell her the truth. I don’t want to. It’s… too personal, somehow.
Bookbabe
What if he’s LEGIT? What if he really is this…sexy af guy who’s super into you?
How do I break this to her?
Strange way to flirt, no?
Bookbabe
Well, not really. He knows what you’re into. You’re basically like hey, so role playing a book girl into a masked man is my thing and he’s all, lemme show you the fantasy RIGHT HERE AND I LOVE YOU
He didn’t say he loves me
Bookbabe
Pfft. Girl. He’s posting videos directed at you four times a day. Some of the thirstier girls are a little jealous that he only ever responds to YOUR comments.
I blink. Wait. What? He does?
My head pounds. I should’ve made that stupid coffee.
I swallow hard. This feels… alright, okay. So color me intrigued.
What if I could play this right?
What if… what if I could make this work for me?
What would you do if you were me?
Bookbabe
I would do exactly what you’re doing. Give him shit online. Tease him. Milk this for all it’s worth. Your notifications have shot up overnight, your followers are climbing by the second… and maybe suss him out a bit. Has he slid into your DM’s yet, or…
Um. Yeah.
Bookbabe
NO FUCKING WAY. Annnnnddddd???
He’s even flirtier in the DM’s than he is publicly.
Bookbabe
SEEEE?!??! He’s into you. Like really into you
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Bookbabe
Well has he stepped out of line?
Is stalking me, taking pictures of me, then giving me the vintage camera of my dreams with the pictures on it stepping out of line?